


Pushed Buttons, Crossed Wires

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-05
Updated: 2006-08-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam pushes Dean's buttons, and Dean pushes buttons Sam didn't know he had.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Title: Pushed Buttons, Crossed Wires/Written for KAZ2Y5’s “KINK” challenge  
Author: merepersiflage  
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean (established relationship)  
Rating: 18+  
Category: kinky smut with a side of brotherly issues  
Word Count: 5000   
Spoilers: none  
Summary: Sam pushes Dean’s buttons, and Dean pushes buttons Sam didn’t know he had.  
Warnings: Incest, kinky smut, graphic sex, language. Look, there’s a belt and no one gets tied up and I said it was kinky, okay? Got it? And there’s a brief mention of the fact that Sam was under-age when they started this.   
Disclaimer: No actual Winchesters were harmed in the making of this fic. It’s so not real, so not mine, it’s actually all CGId.  
Notes: This is in homage to [ ](http://la-folle-allure.livejournal.com/profile)[**la_folle_allure**](http://la-folle-allure.livejournal.com/) who promised me smut in return.   
  
  
  
The thing crashing through the forest behind them was seriously large and seriously pissed off. And was no doubt responsible for the fact that campers were turning up looking like they’d been the slowest runners in Pamplona.   
  
They reached the car.   
  
“Whatever it is I don’t think rock salt’s gonna cut it, Dean.”  
  
“Glove compartment. Pistol, silver bullets, sacred sand, holy water. Grab it all.”  
  
Dean took up a position near the trunk and Sam ran around to the passenger door. But before he could even pop the glove compartment, it broke through the brush.   
  
Big. Black. Silver antlers, red eyes. A deer on steroids. A sianach. It stopped for an instant as it hit the clearing and then turned to charge Dean. Sam didn’t even stop to think. He dove for the driver’s door, hit the release and shoved as hard as he could.   
  
There was a horrific crunch and then the glass above his head exploded, and he ducked his head between his shoulders.   
  
The sianach’s forelegs pawed the ground beneath the door, but it was stunned long enough for Dean to spring forward and cut its throat. The sianach kicked twice and slumped to the ground.   
  
Sam took a couple of deep breaths and shook the glass out of his hair.   
  
“I am going to fucking kill you this time.”  
  
Sam looked up and remembered why he had been so happy about that last growth spurt. An angry Dean was huge.   
  
Sam crawled back along the front seat, picking his way among the chunks of glass. He supposed Dean was pretty pissed about the car, but, hey, neither of them had ended up Swiss cheese, and the car could be repaired. He was just about to shift his weight onto his feet when a hand hooked in his belt, and he was flying backward.   
  
Dean slammed him up against the side of the car.   
  
Pissed off might have been a bit of an understatement.  
  
In fact, Sam couldn’t remember ever seeing Dean that angry. His eyes burned in his flushed face, beautiful lips distorted by a grimace. Dean’s body was tight against his and despite the look on his brother’s face, Sam felt a rush of arousal, because it was still Dean and his body had been wired that way for too long to do anything about it.   
  
Sam smiled and arched his back as best he could to bring grind his hips back against Dean’s. “Shouldn’t we burn the sianach first?”  
  
Dean’s hands were fisted in his shirt, and he slammed Sam into the car again, hard enough to make Sam wince as the frame dug into his back.  
  
“Oh no, buddy, you got it wrong this time.” Dean shifted so their hips were no longer touching. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”  
  
“Saving your ass.”  
  
“Saving my ass?” Dean’s disgusted growl should have made Sam equally angry, but all it did was make him harder.   
  
“You thought the sianach was gonna slow down from a blast of rock salt? Iron and fire, that’s it. You know that.”  
  
His back was definitely going to sport a bruise. He didn’t struggle, didn’t relish another slam, but he tried to lean his head closer to Dean’s. The adrenalin rush of the hunt, the empty campground, if Dean would just calm down things could be pretty fun.   
  
“Look, man, I’m sorry about the car.”  
  
“You’re sorry about the car?”  
  
“Yeah, but you know, Dad always taught us to use anything we could as a weapon. I’ll find some way to get the money—”  
  
“God damn it, Sam.”   
  
Another vicious shove had him biting his lips in pain.   
  
Dean spat out the words. “The window didn’t shatter when the sianach hit it. I’d already pulled the trigger. I shot out the window.” Dean leaned in close enough to kiss, and even in the face of his brother’s rage Sam had to force himself to concentrate on his words rather than that heavenly mouth. His wires must be beyond crossed if Dean like this was getting him horny.   
  
His brother’s voice became a soft purr, no less angry than his shouting. “I almost shot you. In the head. Sam.” He punctuated each sentence with a shake.   
  
“Oh.” Dean’s fury suddenly made a lot more sense. Sam grinned. “You missed.”  
  
“Asshole.” Dean shoved him again and then let him go. He stomped around the front of the car and stood next to the open door. His breathing sounded identical to the sianach’s as it had chased them through the woods. “Shit. Okay, now I’m pissed about the car.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry, man.”   
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. When will you ever think? I’ve gotta take a walk. Burn that.”  
  
Usually Dean was bitching at him for thinking too much. “C’mon, Dean, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Sam, you really don’t want me anywhere near you right now.”  
  
The fact that Dean hadn’t called him Sammy made Sam a little more conscious of just how angry his brother was.  
  
“Burn it.” Dean said as he stalked away.   
  
*  
  
The smell of charred venison was quickly overlaid with a sour cabbage smell that must be peculiar to the monster. Sam was thankful the campground had been closed since the last camper turned up dead. He wasn’t sure if people would show up to arrest him for air pollution or for an all-you-can-eat buffet.   
  
He spent the time picking fragments of glass out of the Impala as he waited for Dean to return. His brother’s anger was always short-lived once he’d gotten it out, and Dean had to have realized that Sam shoving the door into the sianach was the only way they’d have managed to take it down without one of them looking like a used piñata.   
  
Though the sight of the Impala’s door did make him wince. Even in the small circle from his flashlight, the panel looked as crumpled as the shirts at the bottom of his duffel. At least the door still worked. If it had been a car made in the last ten years, the sianach probably would have taken the door with him as it plowed into Dean.   
  
Sam checked his watch. Dean usually got over his mads a lot faster. He wasn’t a brooder. Maybe if he’d yelled and screamed at Sam some more it’d help him get over it. It shouldn’t be hard to get him going. Sam rolled his shoulders and winced. Sam would just stay far enough away from anything he could be flung into.   
  
Dean returned, boots still clomping the ground, and jerked open the trunk.  
  
“Hey, the door works.” Sam offered.   
  
Dean’s only answer was some clanking in the trunk.   
  
“And I got all the glass out of the seat.”  
  
Dean tossed a bundle over his shoulder and stomped away again.   
  
“It sure stunk up the joint.” Sam waved his flashlight at the smoking carcass in the neighboring fire pit. He could hear Dean throw something on the ground, nylon and a metallic thunk. “Um, we staying here the rest of the night?”   
  
“I am. You do whatever the fuck you want. You will anyway.”  
  
The tent Dean was staking out was a snug two-man job, built for two men of somewhat smaller proportions. It was emergency shelter, nothing more. Under certain circumstances, the tent’s close confines held an appeal, but despite his body’s response to Dean’s anger, Sam doubted they’d be taking advantage of the opportunities it presented.   
  
The back seat of the car was roomier and more comfortable, anyway. And smelled less like cabbage. Sam raised his sleeve to his nose. The stench was no longer coming so much from the carcass as from him. They could fight some more after he showered.   
  
*  
  
The tent was too damn small, but there was no fucking way Dean could sleep in the car tonight. The constant reminder of how close he had come to blowing a hole in his brother’s head would have driven him insane. He really needed to do something to bury this gut-tearing anger, but the only thing that came to mind--beating the crap out of Sam--might help now, but in the long run would just screw things up more. That kind of thing might have worked to blow off steam when they were younger, but now they were both likely to inflict some serious, if not permanent, damage.   
  
They could get in the car and drive, but that was back to reminding Dean exactly why he felt like this, and he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t just lead him back to option A: Beat the hell out of the stupid motherfucker.   
  
And the kicker was Sam really couldn’t see why the hell Dean was so pissed. He wasn’t the one whose mind had screamed “Take it back!” just as he’d squeezed the trigger and seen Sam’s head pop out of the door. And then the little shit had thrown Dad in as some kind of defense. How about the rest of Dad’s lessons? How about don’t step between a gun and its target? How about you yell a warning when you’re about to do something stupid? How about don’t turn my freakin’ car into a battering ram?  
  
The nylon roof felt like it was suffocating him, but he needed the barrier between him and the object of his rage. Who at that moment was dumb enough to put his hand on the tent’s zipper.   
  
“What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“Going to sleep.”  
  
“Not in here.”  
  
“Where, Dean?”  
  
“Fuck do I care. The car since you got all the glass out. Just stay the hell away from me right now.”  
  
He heard the picnic table creak.  
  
“Have you ever been this pissed at me before?”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”  
  
“Have you?”  
  
Dean’s eyes burned a hole in the nylon over his head. His stupid brother was going to get himself killed one way or another tonight.   
  
“I’m gonna keep asking until you answer me.”  
  
Jesus. “No.”  
  
“Not even when I shot you?”   
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Not even when I left Ride the Lightning on the dash and it melted?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Not even when I told Dad what you really wanted the handcuffs for?”  
  
“No. Never. Shut the fuck up.”  
  
There was about thirty seconds of blissful silence before Sam asked, “Are you still going to be pissed tomorrow?”  
  
“It is tomorrow, jerkoff.”  
  
“Later, then.”  
  
“I don’t know, Sam. But if I don’t sleep, I’m just going to be angrier.”  
  
“Uhuh.”  
  
This time the silence lasted a full minute before Sam started to sing.   
  
He should have known. Sam was always quick with a “Leave me the hell alone,” but he couldn’t stand being ignored. Dean had watched him drive Dad insane with the same nonsense too many times.   
  
Sam was singing one of those songs with a chorus that consisted mainly of ooo baby’s and suggestions of what that baby could do. And the chorus seemed to be all Sam remembered—or maybe that’s all there was to the song.   
  
“Trust me, Sam. you do not want me to come out there to shut you up.”  
  
The song stopped.   
  
“Why not?”  
  
“’Cause it’s not gonna go the way you seem to think.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
And Dean didn’t need to see it to know Sam was wearing that shit-eating grin of his.  
  
“Because I’m far more likely to take my belt to you than my dick.”  
  
That earned him five loud heartbeats of silence.   
  
“I don’t care.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I. Don’t. Care.”   
  
And he had to know that was the perfect tone to drive him right over the fucking edge. Dean almost tore a hole in the tent getting out.  
  
There was enough starlight to see everything clearly. Sam was lying back on the picnic table, swinging his freakishly long legs in what he probably thought was the perfect come-fuck-me pose. It was, but Dean was too far gone to enjoy it.   
  
He unhooked his belt, and the clank echoed in the silent forest. He whipped it through the loops, and Sam just lay there, his feet still swinging. He slapped the belt on the table next to Sam’s hips.   
  
“You’ll never do it.”  
  
Jesus. Was Sam trying to make him kill him?  
  
“What the hell is it gonna take to get you to shut up?”  
  
“What’s it gonna take for you? C’mon Dean, you’re no good at brooding. If it was me, that’d work. But I don’t feel like spending the next week with you all grouchy in the car, ready to rip my head off for breathing. We go like that, the next ugly sonofabitch is gonna get us. Do what you gotta do.”   
  
Fuck him for being so goddamn insightful. “Don’t try your Psych 101 bullshit on me, geek boy.”  
  
“So I’m wrong?” Sam pushed himself up on his elbows.   
  
Dean grabbed him, his fist wrapped around a yard of Sam’s t-shirt. He wasn’t sure until he touched him whether he was going to slam his fist into his face or—his mouth slammed down on Sam’s, hard enough to make him taste blood and not know whose it was. Or care.   
  
Sam took it for a minute, and then his long fingers bit into Dean’s shoulders, and he kissed him back just as hard. It was almost as if he understood that only violence could obliterate that fear-born anger clawing at Dean’s stomach. Lips yielded to teeth and then Dean was fucking his brother’s mouth with his tongue, tasting his blood, tasting him. His dick lengthened as if it would force its own way out of his jeans. He needed in Sam, every way, hard and fast and to hell with any more preliminaries.   
  
Still driving hard against his mouth, he pulled Sam up until he was sitting and ripped open Sam’s belt. He lifted his head long enough to demand, “Kick your boots off.”  
  
It was more of a battle than the usual dance of helping each other shed clothes. Dean had Sam’s jeans and boxers down almost before his brother’s boots were gone, all the while keeping that rough pressure against his mouth. He’d take every one of Sam’s breaths he could steal before the little shit figured out how to throw them away for good.  
  
Sam kicked away his pants and stood naked from the waist down, revealing the fact that Dean’s rough handling wasn’t having any affect on his libido.   
  
Dean spun him around and shoved him until Sam’s hands slapped against the picnic table. He picked up the belt and let Sam feel the brush of leather against his ass.   
  
“We got this far when I was twelve, remember?”  
  
Oh he did—but he couldn’t remember exactly what Sam had done to make Dean swear he needed a lickin’. Dad had left Dean in charge for a weekend, and Sam had done something stupid. But he had an incredibly vivid memory of Sam bent bare-assed over a chair, and remembered that the sight of his little brother’s narrow ass tipped up toward him had given him such an unexpected hard on that he’d dropped the belt and headed for the bathroom before he did anything they’d regret.  
  
Though, as he ran his hand roughly around to find Sam’s dick rock hard, he wondered if Sam would have regretted it at all. “You’ve got some fuck all crossed wires, pal.”   
  
“You gonna pussy out again?”  
  
Dean doubled the belt and slapped it against the table. Sam flinched, but made no effort to shift away. And his dick stayed rigid against his stomach.   
  
Dean’s breath hung tight in his chest. Was he really going to do this? Did he want to? It seemed Sam was going to let him. His arm swung back and cracked the belt across Sam’s ass. It was louder than a thunder clap. Sam looked over his shoulder, and his expression dared Dean to do it again.   
  
“You are seriously fucked up, you know that?”  
  
“I’m a Winchester, aren’t I?”  
  
“You gonna blame this on Dad, too? ’Cause he hardly ever smacked us, let alone . . .” Dean swung the belt again and Sam’s back arched with the blow, enough for Dean to see that the pain hadn’t softened him at all. In fact, a drop of fluid glittered on the head of his dick.  
  
And Sam wasn’t the only sick bastard. His own dick was strangling itself in his too tight jeans, clearly enjoying the sight of his brother rocking under the blows from Dean’s belt.  
  
“No. This is all you and me,” Sam gasped.  
  
Dean swung his arm again and again until they were both panting.   
  
By the time Dean lowered his arm, Sam knew two things, getting his ass beat hurt, and getting his ass beat by his brother turned him on. If Dean’d actually followed through on his threat when they were younger, they might have ended up screwing around years earlier.   
  
He hadn’t ever really known he’d wanted it, hadn’t known he wanted to push Dean that far until he felt the whisper of leather against his ass send a shock right down his dick.   
  
His ass was on fire, but it was the good burn of pain-pleasure, like the rough touch he needed sometimes to come. His dick throbbed against his stomach, the head leaking precome. Dean smacked him one last time, a surprise crack of lightning across scorched skin.   
  
Dean spun him around again, and they stood, face to face, a breath of distance between them. Though Dean wasn’t touching him, Sam could feel his brother’s tension vibrating against his skin like the air before a thunderstorm.   
  
Watching him, Sam knew how much Dean had always held himself in check. Dean was so careful with him. Everything from the slow rubbing of morning wood to an all out fuck, Dean was always putting him first. Even their graduation from hand and blow jobs to fucking had been born of Sam’s desire to get closer to his brother, to feed his need to be a part of him. Not that Dean didn’t get off. Not that Dean hadn’t made Sam perfectly aware of what was waiting for him when a 15-year-old Sam had crawled into his bed wanting something more than comfort from bad dreams.   
  
But this time it really needed to be all about Dean.   
  
“Go ahead. Lose it. I’m not backing down.”  
  
Dean reached for his shoulders and shoved him down on his knees. The long needled pines were slick and soft, cool against his hot skin. He reached for Dean’s fly.  
  
“Be sure to get it good and wet.”  
  
Sam looked up. “There’s lube in the car, Dean.”  
  
“You really think mentioning the car’s a good idea right now, Sam?”  
  
Sam swallowed back some nerves.   
  
“You’re the one who wanted this. Couldn’t let it go. You backing down now?”  
  
“No.” Sam freed Dean’s cock and took the swollen head in his mouth. Dean’s hands twisted in his hair, holding him there. Sam wet his lips, working as much saliva as he could over the head and length of Dean’s dick, trying not to obsess over where this was going. Yeah, he had some wires crossed and liked things a little rougher than he ever knew, but oh shit. They’d done it often enough that Sam knew he could if he was relaxed it didn’t hurt, but with nothing but spit . . .   
  
He began to bob in earnest, sliding his hand on his shaft in opposition and was rewarded with a splash of salty precome. He used his tongue to spread it around, working it as far down as it would go and sucking hard now, using the flat of his tongue on the underside of Dean’s cock, just the way he knew he liked, but Dean was lifting him up and away before he could finish, and Sam saw a last-chance question in his brother’s eyes.   
  
He tightened his jaw in answer, and Dean spun him around until he was bent over the table again. Dean kicked his legs apart.   
  
“Better stay back like that, or you’ll be getting slivers in a bitch of a spot.”   
  
Dean’s hands were rough on his hips, and that wasn’t his finger, ’cause his hands were still—“Damn.”  
  
No matter how slick or ready, the first penetration always burned. This time his muscles protested enough to make him forget how sore the rest of his ass was.  
  
“You’ve got two choices. Relax or get hurt.” Dean grunted in his ear.   
  
Sam willed his body to yield to that searing pressure. They needed this. He could still stop it. He knew no matter how angry or far gone Dean was, if Sam really started protesting somehow his brother would stop. That sense of trust was just what he needed to coax his muscles to relax. He let out a deep breath and Dean slid in further. It hurt, enough for Sam to remember why lube was such a useful thing, but not enough to make him stop. And when he was all the way in, Sam’s body told him just how good it felt when the fire stopped and the friction began.   
  
Dean ran his hand over Sam’s bruised ass. Sam sucked air in through his teeth. Even that light touch gave all those nerve endings a fresh sting. He might as well have used the belt again.   
  
“Damn, Sam, I think you’re almost as hot outside as you are in.”  
  
Dean pressed against him, every inch of skin rubbing that his still smoldering flesh. His voice rasped in his ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week.”  
  
Sam closed his eyes and rocked back onto him with a moan. Everything from his waist down was electrified. There was so much sensation, tingling pleasure and burning pain rolling over him in such rapid succession, he could hardly tell which was which any more.   
  
Dean reached around his hips and tugged his balls down. “Don’t even think about coming.”  
  
Dean began to fuck him then, and Sam couldn’t think of anything but coming. Dean pulled almost out, and the rim of muscle twitched to hold him before Dean slammed back in so hard Sam had to squeeze the wooden planks under his fingers or go flying into the table.   
  
“I almost killed you, Sam.” Despite the crushed velvet purr in his voice, it wasn’t Dean’s usual pillow talk, but then this wasn’t their usual sex.   
  
“I know. I’m sorry,” Sam gasped.  
  
Damn it. Long and hard and never fast enough or at the right angle. Sam swore he could feel every nerve ending in his muscles as they yielded to Dean’s thrusts, each one burning like an itch he couldn’t scratch.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he groaned again. He wouldn’t beg. Dean would give in, and it would still be all about him.   
  
“You could have died, Sammy.”  
  
And that name made it right again, made them right again. That familiar, loving exasperation.   
  
Dean was panting in his ear as his strokes sped up. That voice, all rough and sweet for him. “So good. So tight and hot like this. I swear every band of muscle is trying to squeeze the come right outta me.”   
  
And Dean was pounding into him like a jackhammer. Sam arched his back and there. Just right the hell there. God, he needed to come right the fuck now.   
  
But he couldn’t lift a hand without falling and Dean’s grip on his hips never slackened.   
  
He ground his teeth together and kept arching so that Dean kept hitting him just right. His eyes were gonna roll right back through his head. His balls were going to hike themselves right the hell up into his intestines. And that was going to be fun to explain in the emergency room.   
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He almost couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Sammy, god, I’m sorry.” Dean’s lips brushed his ear.  
  
What the hell was Dean sorry for unless it was the fact that Sam needed to come more than he needed to breathe and he’d just about fucked his brother’s spine unglued?   
  
He tightened his muscles and felt Dean shudder and jerk against him. Dean burst inside him, a flood of liquid heat that burned away the last of the barriers between them. Sam’s legs shook and started to give out as Dean pulsed in him again and again.   
  
Dean eased out and pulled them down onto the slippery cool pine needles. The chill against his skin was so sudden he shuddered. Dean wrapped him in an embrace tight enough to remind him of just how goddamn strong his brother was.   
  
“If you ever do something that stupid again I will personally put your ass on a bus back to California.”   
  
And he used the leverage of that breathless hold to roll Sam onto his back. Even satin probably would have grated against his ass, but now he was particularly aware of why they were called pine needles, but then it didn’t matter because Dean slid down and his mouth was on him.  
  
God. That hot pressure. That wet slide. That thick sound. Sam’s hips involuntarily bucked off the ground and that perfect mouth just took him deeper. And as if that wasn’t enough, Dean was make some kind of crooning or humming noise deep in his throat and the vibration went right down his dick and zapped his spine. He thrust up again.   
  
He couldn’t have lasted long anyway. He felt like he’d been hard for a week and the blistering pain in his ass just made every sensation that much more intense. But when he looked down and saw those lashes drop, shutter those glittering eyes, those full lips wrapped around his cock he was gone. Fireworks behind his eyes, spine tearing, fire shooting out his dick coming.   
  
Dean sucked him through each spasm that ripped through him, his tongue lapping the crown until Sam had to jerk himself away as it all got to be too damn much to take any more.  
  
And now everything really hurt. Without the blur of arousal, it just fucking hurt, his ass, his back, his dick. But damn it had been so worth it. He just wasn’t sure how soon he wanted to do it again. He eased onto his side.   
  
“I still fucking hate camping,” Dean muttered.  
  
A pine needle stabbed Sam’s hip. “Yeah, me, too.”  
  
Thunder rumbled in the distance, so soft and low Sam was hoping he really hadn’t heard it.   
  
But Dean was on his feet and pulling up his jeans. “I’m not sitting out here through a thunderstorm and neither is the car. Get dressed.”  
  
Sam groaned. “The tent.”  
  
“My upholstery.”  
  
“We’ve got a tarp.”  
  
“Hurry up. And you might want to go commando. I used your boxers to clean up.”  
  
“Son of a bitch.”  
  
The soft, broken-in denim might as well have been burlap for the way it felt on his ass. He heard Dean breaking down the tent as he limped to the car. At least he could stretch out on the back seat and—  
  
“Uh-uh.” Dean slammed the trunk shut.’  
  
Sam leaned against the open back door.   
  
“You’re riding up front with me.” His brother’s grin was evil.   
  
Sam groaned.   
  
“Hey, if I’m gonna get wet ‘cause of this window . . .”  
  
Sam’s brain was quick enough to stifle the retort that Dean had been the one to shoot the glass out.   
  
“Unless . . .” And it was a total dare, and Sam couldn’t back down.   
  
“Fine.” He shut the back door and opened the front. He took a long look at the ridged vinyl and eased onto the bench. If Dean laughed at him, he was going to slug him.   
  
“We’ll stop at the first motel and tarp the car,” Dean promised, but Sam scarcely heard him as the Impala began to bounce over the ruts of the campground road. If Dean didn’t love his fucking car so much, Sam would have sworn he hit every one on purpose.   
  
When they swung out onto the main road, Sam could not keep back a groan as he remembered how deep they were in the northern Wisconsin woods: zero population but deer, foxes and the occasional sianach. They wouldn’t hit a motel for at least four hours.   
  
He cuffed Dean’s ear, and his brother laughed.   
  
“I’m sorry, Sammy. Really. If you want to lie in the back, I’ll pull over.” But he was still chuckling.   
  
“Bastard.”  
  
Dean rolled the car to a stop on the shoulder and turned to face him. Lightning splashed the sky behind them, and Dean’s eyes glowed in the sudden light. “I just thought that since your wires are so damned crossed, after an hour of sitting there you’d be ready for another round without me having to do all that work again.”   
  
And when he put his hand on Sam’s thigh all the pain turned sweet and sent that confused message to his dick again. Either he was seriously going to regret Dean figuring out this kink or start having the best sex of his life.   
  
He settled back against the seat. “I’m good.”  
  
Dean flashed a grin bright as the lightning and pulled back out onto the highway.   
  
 


End file.
